“Get too the chopper,” I yell in my best Arnold Schwarzenegger too the others, flipping the lifeless girl -the girl I was here for; paid to come get- over my shoulder, just as a bunch of very pissed off Cultists, clad in a strange mix of robes and automatic weapons, pursue us from the temple and into the ceremonial square.
The blades of the Huey whip up dust, and toss the hair around the heads that sit atop the meter high stakes that line the way to the temple as she descends slowly, then hovers a mere feet off the ground. Our pilot ready too run at a moments notice; Steve unloads a torrent of bullets from the his mini-gun from the gunners position at the back of the troop compartment, cargo hold, or what ever the fuck you call it. Laying down a carpet of hellish lead at our newly made friends. The first row never saw it coming until they were being chewed to pieces. The others, unfortunately, were smart enough to take cover where ever they could find it.
I don’t brother to really look back, too take stock in the damage Steve caused. What I saw was enough to know that I didn’t have to run and shoot and dodge all while trying to balance the girl at the same time.
The team hit the Huey’s deck, two of my guys head to the other side and start to shoot widely out the that door into the jungle to keep the heads down of anyone trying to flank our LZ while the others turn and help cover me as I huff and puff my old ass towards them.
The guys help lift me and our package into the chopper, and we’re all barely in when the pilot decides that he’s had enough fun and begins to lift off.
The trees and foliage melt together, turning into one large carpet of green as we go.
“Fuck me,” I say too no one in particular, “Hell of a way to make a buck.”
No comments:
Post a Comment